


Born of Animosity

by Forsaker



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hate Sex, Hogwarts Prefects' Bathroom, Mildly Dubious Consent, Water Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:41:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23195680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forsaker/pseuds/Forsaker
Summary: It was supposed to be just another quiet night in the prefect's bathroom...
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 19
Kudos: 203





	Born of Animosity

There weren’t many things Hermione allowed herself to indulge when it came to stress relief. From what she could tell, Harry and Ron certainly didn’t have the same problem, but most of the things they were up to in their spare time to Hermione seemed a complete waste ‒ there’s only so much of Wizard’s chess or playing audience for Fred and George’s latest shenanigans that Hermione could take before her mind wandered to grabbing the nearest study book instead. However, one thing she did very much enjoy on occasion was spending some alone time in the prefect’s bathroom.

Since she went at night, it was practically guaranteed that no one else would be there to disturb her, especially since boy prefects had their own bathroom adjacent. So she made a habit of going at roughly the same time, which was a few minutes shy of midnight.

This time it was no different, and on the way there Hermione was met with largely empty halls. A few ghosts had crossed her path here and there, but there were no teachers, students and, luckily, no Filch. Having reached the entrance, she spoke the password (‘aqueous’) and proceeded inside.

Just being inside was already having a relaxing effect on the young witch. The after smell of dozens of different bubble baths was still lingering in the air, but Hermione still had her preferred one. She opened a few taps of the pool, which as always, filled up fairly quickly. Then rather than mixing up different aromas like other students apparently did, she found her favorite. One flick of her wand later, another tap began spewing forth thick, azure-blue foam across the water surface. In the meantime, Hermione slid off her robe, followed by her shirt, skirt, shoes, socks... Once she was in her underwear (Gryffindor-red, as always), she glanced over her lithe body in the mirror before removing bra and panties as well.

Hurrying over to the pool so as not to over-fill it, she turned off the taps for both the water and the foam. Then finally, she checked the water with one foot and finding it just the right temperature, dove into the water. As a matter of habit, the young witch swam a few lengths, but her purpose here being relaxation, she soon settled for floating on the watery surface and letting all the study-related worries melt away. She had spent no more than half an hour like that when her serenity crashed with all the suddenness of a piano falling from the roof: The second the bathroom door opened, Hermione dove back into the thicker foam and watched with a sliver of indignation for the person that dared to transgress on her alone time. Unfortunately, it was the last student she expected to see.

“Malfoy!”

The Slytherin sauntered toward the pool, his obnoxious smirk making Hermione even less glad to see him than usually.

“Well, well. If isn’t Potter’s second favorite boot-licker. What are you doing here, Granger? You know being a mudblood is not something that washes away.”

“What are _you_ doing here, you miserable prat?” Hermione seethed. “This bathroom is for girls only!”

“Is it really?!” Malfoy gasped in pretend shock as he glanced around. “Well, now I see why they call you the brightest witch of our generation. The hours you spend with your nose buried in books have certainly paid off.”

“I’m serious, Malfoy. Get out! You have your own bathroom! And how did you even get in--”

“ _Had_ a bathroom, Granger. But thanks to your Weasley pranksters, I can’t get in. So feel free to pass along your complaints to them. And as for the password, well... we Slytherins are a resourceful bunch.”

“You’ll be a regretful bunch if you don’t get out right now!” Hermione exclaimed, hands covering her nether region and breasts even though the foam was omni-present. Malfoy, however, was not budging.

“No, I think I’ll stay. Taking points from dimwitted Gryffindors all day is downright exhausting and I’m absolutely knackered. I need a bit of relaxation.”

If eyes could kill, the glance Hermione shot Malfoy then would’ve murdered him a dozen times over. And her fury was compounded by the fact that her wand was completely out of reach, and that she had eschewed an actual bathing suit (which she never needed up to this point). But as if that was not enough, Malfoy made a point to remain turned toward her as he slowly undressed, likely hoping to infuriate her more.

“Fine,” the young witch finally relented. “Fine, you obnoxious knob! Then turn around so I can leave.”

“Ha!” Malfoy scoffed. “A Gryffindor ‒ and a mudblood, to boot ‒ giving me orders. That’ll be the day. Nobody’s stopping you from leaving.” But then he wasn’t looking away either.

“You... miserable... wretched... dimwitted... deplorable... bellend!”

Malfoy merely chuckled at the series of insults and was about to remove the last of his clothing when Hermione promptly looked away. The last thing she wanted to have in her mind was the image of a naked Draco Malfoy.

If only the sound of him slipping into the water was as easy to block out.

So this is my life, Hermione thought. Stuck in a pool with Draco Malfoy. If somebody had told her this a few days ago, she would’ve said they had suffered one too many bludger hit to the head. And yet, there she was. The very presence of him disgusted her, but the fact they were both naked made it all the worse. Despite her foamy cover, she could practically feel Malfoy ogling her ‒ or at least attempting to ‒ and it almost made her nauseous.

How the hell did he even get in, she wondered. The password, the young witch concluded, was not exactly impossible to acquire: she could just imagine Malfoy spying on another prefect, or even her, on one of their earlier trips here. What puzzled her more was why there was no spell to ward off male intruders like the stairwell in the Gryffindor tower. Maybe the idea was that prefects were too responsible and mature to attempt something like this. Well... they clearly hadn’t counted on a certain slimy Slytherin.

“Oi! What happened with looking away, Granger?” Malfoy called out when he noticed her watching him from the other end of the pool.

“I have to keep an eye on you, don’t I?” Hermione returned indignantly. “Wouldn’t want you trying something.”

“What, with you?!” Malfoy barked a laugh. “You’re off of your trolley, mudblood. I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole ‒ even if the rumors were true.”

She stared back at him, half a mind convinced this was some pathetic ploy of his; the other more than a little curious as to what he was referring to.

“What _are_ you talking about?” Hermione threw back offhandedly, trying to sound as disinterested as possible.

“You mean you don’t know?” he smirked. “Well, I guess it makes sense _you_ wouldn’t.”

“Either say what you mean or shut up, you insufferable sod.”

“Fair enough, fair enough. I was in fact referring to the stories... They say Gryffindor girls give the best head.”

Hermione must’ve gasped five or six times before an she managed to form an actual response:

“That’s a complete and utter lie you bastard!”

“Oh, so you’re bad at it then?” Malfoy grinned like the cat that just nabbed a mouse.

“Wh-w-- No! You... Oh go to hell!” Hermione lashed out, positively fuming with fury. Malfoy on the other hand, seemed to be having a great time.

“I mean was there an actual competition? And if so, who snatched the first place from you?”

“Your mother did,” Hermione returned venomously. Unfortunately Malfoy guffawed at the response.

“Look at you Granger, all cheesed off. Talking about things you know nothing about.”

“Said the gormless wanker who’s never even touched a girl. You couldn’t please woman if your life depended on it.”

“Well, a woman... that’s debatable. But a thirsty little slag like you? I’d have you squirming in mere seconds ‒ if I wanted to, of course.”

“You revolting bastard! How dare you?!” Hermione exclaimed, angry and indignant in equal measure. “I am NOT _thirsty!_ ”

“But you are a slag?” Malfoy sniggered, and Hermione had to make a conscious effort against swimming to his side and pummeling him to death. “It’s alright, Granger. It’s understandable. Spending all of your time with one book after another; leaves no time for more interesting things, does it? But it also takes a toll, that. _Needs_ go unattended,” he snorted a laugh. “Is that why you’re around Potter and Weasley all the time? Hoping they’ll have enough of your prattling one day and bend you over a desk for a proper shag?”

“You loathsome bloody...”

“Yeah, that’s it, isn’t it? But in the meantime, you do what you can, I’m sure. Wake up every morning with your hand down your knickers, I wager. And come night time, you wander the corridors ‒ on the pull.”

Hermione couldn’t for the life of her come up with a response that would adequately illustrate the flurry of emotions that swarmed in her head at the moment. What she could do, however, is notice how in the last few sentences Malfoy had casually and slowly begun swimming over to her. That’s it then, she realized. He meant to infuriate her on the one side and drive her out of the water with his proximity on the other. Well... she’ll be dammed if she would fall into such an obvious trap.

“You move another inch Malfoy, and I swear I will hex you to death,”

“With what, exactly?” he responded as he closed in. “Your tits? Face it, Granger. This talk alone has made you horny. It’s a good thing you’re in a pool; would be obvious you’re wetter than a mermaid’s cunt.”

“You delusional little--”

Half-way through her insult, Malfoy’s hand surged toward her and before she could even think about reacting, he slipped a finger straight into her. Hermione gasped in surprise, too shocked by his brazen gesture to do anything. But then some semblance of sanity reappeared and she swung to slap his face, which he easily intercepted with his free hand as he pressed himself against her body. The thought of using her other hand to claw his eyes out had barely began when he slipped another finger inside her, the pads of his digits pressing against some place Hermione did not even know she had.

All his insults and insinuations echoed in the back of his mind, especially those that were true. She tried to stifle the memories of her futile attempts at masturbation and the accompanying resentment of being unable to do so. She had long since given up, concluding it was simply not one of her many skills, though when Malfoy began stroking this completely unknown pleasure into her, she had to admit it was one of his. Not even Krum and his clumsy attempts at satisfying her on the night they’d spent together was like this: In a startlingly short amount of time, a wonderful warmth began radiating from her core, suffusing her body with sensations pleasing enough to make her forget who was doing this to her.

“You bastard...” she gasped weakly, as if some small part of her mind still protested this turn of events, but made no move to stop him. He fucked into her with precise, jerking motions, sending shockwaves of bliss with each movement of his hand, and despite her hatred for the Slytherin, Hermione felt herself cant her hips forward to meet his thrusts. One of the few coherent thoughts that had not been destroyed under the assault of sheer physical gratification was that she did not want this to stop. And if any doubt in her mind remained, it was swiftly put aside when Malfoy pressed his thumb against her clit, drawing a startled moan from the young witch as he began massaging her sensitive jewel.

“You... bastaAH!” she tried again, but was cut off by a particularly deep thrust of his fingers that turned her word into a moan. She hated Malfoy. She hated that he was doing this to her, and she hated how easily her body was betraying her. But the pleasure.... that she relished. Adored it. Hungered for it. That she had never even had a proper sexual intercourse, or masturbated successfully was not helping in the least. Of their own accord, her legs wrapped around Malfoy’s form as if to pull him in deeper, harder, faster... And he, the bastard that he was, took it a cue.

“Want me to stop, Granger?” Even in her current state, she could hear the sheer glee and smugness in his voice.

“Fuck you,” she managed ‒ the only thing that would not lead him to stop yet still allow her to cling to the hatred she would always feel for him.

“Look at you now, you mudblooded slut. You’re gagging for it,” he spoke into her ear.

Mudblood... not even that was pulling Hermione out of her state. And Malfoy certainly seemed to have put aside his idiotic ideas of blood purity and not touching her in favor of indulging his own libido. As for Hermione’s... the young witch had by this time become a mess. The pistoning motions inside her velvety walls had only increased in speed, and it was with some measure of embarrassment that she realized the wanton moans filling the bathroom were her own. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead and stimulus from her turgid nipples pressing against Malfoy’s chest only made her hotter.

Slowly, she began to feel it: like an encroaching tidal wave about crash over her. Her body could no longer bear this current of ecstasy. Something inside her would break, and she would finally _know..._ Just a little, a little bit more, and then... it stopped. Malfoy stopped.

He pulled back with his moronic smirk, while Hermione stared in utter disbelief, like someone had just poured gallons of ice water over her head.

“You... you utter git!” she bristled, and this time managed to slap him. Eschewing all thoughts of embarrassment and apprehension, she rose out of the pool not the least bit worried of how much of her Malfoy would see. She only made two steps away from the water when Malfoy, whom she did not even hear follow after her, pressed her onto the wall. Having turned only half way toward him, she was now squeezed side-ways between the wall on one side, and Malfoy on the other. She only had a second to note his erect cock against her thigh when his fingers were on her pussy yet again.

Her first instinct was to slap him again and, ideally, kick him in the bollocks. But the second he was knuckles-deep inside her, the urge vanished. Far too quickly for Hermione’s liking, her body was chasing that euphoric high and the young witch just couldn’t take it anymore; her needy whimper told as much.

“What’s the matter, Granger? Fingers not enough for you?” Malfoy taunted.

“Ugh, you... you’ve had your fun... enough!”

“Oh, want me to stop, do you?”

Despite mustering all the will and self-control she thought she had, Hermione was in sheer disbelief when she heard her own voice:

“N-no! Just fuck me already!”

With a victorious grunt, Malfoy began positioning her back to wall, but Hermione squirmed the other way.

  
“Fuck me from behind you bastard, I don’t want to look at you.” The truth was, she couldn’t trust herself to keep her eyes closed at her most vulnerable, and she wouldn’t be consumed by what threatened to be the most pleasurable moment of her life while staring at his irritating mug.

Malfoy barked a laugh at her words, and acquiesced quickly enough. Her grabbed her hips from behind and with a singular thrust split her open.

“AH!” Hermione moaned aloud, the sheer wanton pleasure in her voice proving utterly mortifying for the young witch. Yet she was not allowed to dwell on it. No sooner had Malfoy buried himself fully in her supple body, than did he start to pull back, his cock-head’s ridge gilding along her silky inner walls. He made a point to do it slowly, as if to make her ever more aware of how much she craved the moment when he would once again--

“Ugh-god!” a guttural moan escaped her lips as he breached her dripping cunt anew. This time Malfoy sped up, as he began slamming into her with a brisk tempo, invading her unaccustomed core better and deeper than Krum ever had. His flesh smacked against hers with each strike, giving voice to the each pulse of ecstasy that shot to every part of Hermione’s sensitive frame. She welcomed her body’s violation ‒ even from someone she utterly despised ‒ trying to hide her enjoyment as best she could. With gritted teeth she attempted to hold back from vocalizing her lust, even as she was being impaled from behind and her turgid nipples scraped against the cold tiles of the wall. And as if that was not enough, Malfoy suddenly got the idea to grab her hair into a pony tail and pull her head back. Hermione yelped from the sudden tug, not so much because of the silver of pain but how perfectly timed it was with another slam of his cock, causing her to fear she’d soon relish even the less pleasant sensation Malfoy would subject her to as long as he didn’t stop fucking her.

As if to confirm her suspicion, Malfoy’s hand slithered up her taut, firm stomach to grasp her petite left breast with a painful grip. Sure enough, the young witch moaned at the startling sensation, the pain from her tweaked nipple now shooting straight into her stuffed cunt.

“Enjoying yourself, slut?”

“Ugh--fuck! Ngh, you... oh god!” Hermione whimpered half-broken words. “Go fuck yoursAH-ffffuck!” she groaned wantonly, the onslaught of ecstasy making her forget what she was about to say.

“Why would I do that when I can keep shagging a thirsty little slag like you?” he spoke into her ear, and emphasized his last word with a particularly vicious slam of his cock, causing the distraught witch to stand in tip-toes as she was fucked into the wall.

Almost entirely inexperienced with all things carnal, Hermione’s mind was consumed by the pleasure ravaging her frail body. So when it came to an end, she was caught completely off guard: One moment she was relishing the bliss suffusing her body ‒ pain and all ‒ the next, the pleasure coalesced into an electrifying current surging from her cunt to all parts of her body, a keening wail torn from her throat even as Malfoy continued to pump into the dipping mess of her orgasming cunt.

Yet no sooner had she even begun to realize she had just had the first proper orgasm of her life, than did the immensely satisfying aftershocks still coursing through her listless form begin to shift into another bout of mounting pleasure. Having not reached his own climax yet, Malfoy still sank his cock into her with long, steady strokes and Hermione realized ‒ to both her dismay and delight ‒ her body was eagerly responding. Now more sensitive, the young witch was acutely aware of each ingress into her tender inner walls, of the pull on her hair, of the kneading of her breast. But was it her cunt that seemed most susceptible, the pleasure emanating there growing so rapidly that Hermione began fearing Malfoy meant to fuck her raw. And the worst part was that she wasn’t sure she minded.

After several minuets he began to pick up the pace, now pistoning into the distraught witch with a vengeance. In sync with his body, all Hermione could do was whimper incoherently as her tits slid up and down the wall and her welcoming entrance yielded to one intrusion after another. It was not long before Malfoy succumbed as well: He groaned loudly as he slammed into her one last time and began defiling Hermione’s inner sanctum with a deluge of his disgusting seed. Hermione gasped at the feeling of being filled with gooey warmth, eyes rolling upward and cunt clamping around the cock as her own orgasm wracked her body anew. She mewled pathetically into the wall, her world reduced to that point in their union where long spurts of cum continued to paint the insides of her love tunnel.

She had no idea how long they stayed like that, but at some point Malfoy withdrew, and Hermione had regained just enough of her sanity to be mortified by the obscene, squelching sound as he pulled out, the combination of their juices dripping down her thighs. Attempting to walk, she faltered and had to clutch the wall and steady herself for a moment. She half-expected for Malfoy to snigger at the fact he had made her too weak to move but he did not, and she certainly could not bear to look at him as the reality of what had just transpired began to sink in.

Slowly walking over to the other side of the bathroom, Hermione inadvertently glanced at the Mermaid painting that hung on the wall, blushing for the first time during the whole night when the mermaid smirked and winked at her. Doing her best to ignore her, Hermione managed to get to the other side, and wanting to get out of there as soon as possible, wrapped her robe around her body, picked up the clothes and the underwear in a pile, took her wand and quickly made her exit.

The walk back was mercifully uneventful, apart from the occasional breeze wafting up her robe to remind her of the mess still streaking her thighs. As expected, the others in her room were dead-asleep, for which Hermione was immensely grateful. She really wasn’t in the mood of explaining why she looked like she had just been fucked to within an inch of her life.

Finally in the privacy of her bed’s curtains, she used a quick spell to clean up the dripping evidence of her indiscretion. Yet when it came to doing the same to her still-gooey center, she paused. Images of that Slytherin bastard were fresh in her mind, but so was the pleasure he had subjected her to. As much as she despised Malfoy, Hermione could not deny that he had shown her levels of previously unimagined ecstasy. As she lay on her bed and looked over her body (noting the still-present hand print on her breast), her hand roamed over her taut stomach, ready to cast the contraceptive spell.

After a few moments of indecisiveness, she still decided to put aside her wand. It may well have been the still-present aftershocks of pleasure impeding her judgment, but for one night, she would let Malfoy’s seed have its way with her body.

Call it a reward. Even though he will never know about it.


End file.
